Page 65 of Falling for Mr. Billionaire

Jeremy plops down onto the couch, Marissa curling up next to him. Vanessa sits beside me, close enough that her knee brushes mine in silent solidarity.

“So,” Jeremy says, grabbing a handful of chips from the bowl on the table. “You called in the troops. What’s the emergency?”

There’s no easy way to say it. So I take a deep breath, squeeze the pillow tighter against my chest, and just blurt it out: “I’m pregnant.”

For a second, the room is so quiet I can hear the clock ticking. Then Jeremy chokes on his chips. Marissa gasps and claps a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide. And Vanessa—sweet, amazing Vanessa—just squeezes my hand and grins.

“Well damn, sis!” Jeremy finally says, coughing. “Didn’t see that one coming. Must be slim pickings out there if someone knocked you up,” he says jokingly.

“Says the flamingo,” I fire back, grinning.

“Ouch,” he says mockingly, holding onto his chest like he’s in physical pain.

My mother rolls her eyes. “That’s enough, you two,” she says just as Jeremy and I are sticking our tongues out at each other like we were back in grade school.

“Plot twist!” Marissa giggles, reaching over to rub my knee. “Congratulations! Oh my god, we’re going to have a baby around!”

I give a half-laugh, half-sob. “Thanks… I think?”

“So… five months, huh?” Jeremy says, raising an eyebrow. “That’s a long time not to notice, Ivy. Has everything been okay with you?”

“Yeah, I mean… the baby’s almost full-term,” Marissa adds, her eyes wide.

I shrug, hugging the pillow tighter against my stomach. “My cycles have always been all over the place, but it’s never been this long. I guess I just had so much on my mind—with the article blowing up, all these different news outlets reaching out to verify my sources or offer me work—it kept me distracted.”

“But you know,” my mom jumps in, smiling so wide it makes my throat tighten, “you didn’t even look pregnant at first. But now? I can see it—you’re glowing, Ivy. This is insane! I’m going to be a grandmother!”

She claps her hands together, practically vibrating with excitement.

“What do you think I should go by? Nana? Yeah… that’s it. Nana!” she says, nodding like she’s already decided.

We spend the next half-hour doing what my family does best: cracking jokes to keep from falling apart.

Jeremy offers to build the crib—“Just don’t sue me when it collapses.” Marissa starts planning a baby shower complete with an inflatable bouncy castle—“for the adults, obviously.” Vanessa demands naming rights if it’s a girl—“Vanessica is a strong name, don’t fight me on this.”

It’s loud and chaotic and ridiculous, but it helps.

Still, I keep one massive thing to myself. The father. I know Vanessa’s eyes keep darting to me, silently asking if I’m going to say it out loud.

I don’t. Not yet. When everyone finally leaves, the house feels both too quiet and too heavy. I flop back on the couch, staring at the ceiling like it might offer answers.

“You have to tell him,” Vanessa says gently, sitting on the edge of the coffee table.

“I know.”

“What’s the plan?” she asks, pulling her knees up onto the couch like we’re plotting a heist.

I chew on my bottom lip, staring at my phone like it might sprout arms and deliver the message for me. “He’s not reading anything I send him, nor answering my calls. Every text, every voicemail gets ignored. It’s like screaming into a void.”

Vanessa leans in, her voice low like we’re conspiring. “What if you send something he can’t ignore?”

“Like what? Smoke signals?” I mumble.

She grins. “No, seriously. Something dramatic. Maybe say you’re in the hospital?”

I make a face. “Fake a medical emergency? Yeah, because lying is a great way to kick off co-parenting.”

“Okay, bad idea,” she concedes, holding up her hands. “Brainstorming here.”

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